


what i want from you.

by castawaypitch



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [3]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown Day 3, M/M, Retelling, Watford Fifth Year, but what if things were different, the catacombs scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castawaypitch/pseuds/castawaypitch
Summary: Day 3: Retelling.Baz and I had spent the last six months of the term playing cat and mouse. I chase him, and he hides from me.But what if I finally catch him?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026276
Kudos: 59
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	what i want from you.

Baz and I had spent the last six months of the term playing cat and mouse. I chase him, and he hides from me. This is an every-night situation, but I never get him where I want. Under my thumb. Under my hands.

But this night, I have the feeling I'll finally catch him. His whole plotting is going to come down, and I'll witness that. The moon is rising on the outside, its light guiding me until I get into the building.

I follow him into the Catacombs, through the high, arched, never-locked front doors … Back behind the altar, behind the sanctuary and the Poets Corner … Through the secret door, and down into the Catacombs. 

The dark is so deep, and I have to hold on the walls to keep myself from falling on the floor and make noise, letting him know I'm following him –even if he already knows, there's no need to confirm that.

The Catacombs sit beneath the White Chapel and beyond it. There are probably lots of ways down, but I only know of one. The one Baz takes every single night; I'm sure he's going to hunt some rats (once I saw the sleeves of his shirt stained with blood), or maybe he has a room specially designed for all of his plotting, there's probably a lot of books and notes about how he and the Old Families are going to bring my fall. I'm supposed to be the hero of the World of Mages (at least in England) but they don't think of me like that –they call me a false idol, a fraud to the magic, and the thief of the power they used to hold.

Penny used to come here with me, the first few nights, but she stopped when we got lost once. It took us hours to find our way back to the Chapel, and when we did it, the sun was rising up. She got mad at me, and stopped going to Baz’s football matches with me, too. And stopped waiting with me in the hallway outside the balcony where he takes violin lessons.

She told me to stop following him, but I'm not going to give up. All the clues are starting to make sense, I'm so close to find the evil plan he's making. I'm close to discover he really is a vampire; there's no way a person can see perfectly good in the dark, nor look so bloody perfect all the time.

I can hear steps, which means I'm finally close to get him. There's a heavy door, with something written on the front. I can't know what it says without light, so I just run my fingers through the letters, but I still don't get it. The door opens when I push a little, and I see him.

Baz is sitting in the corner, skulls stacked along the walls around him. _Le Tombeau des Enfants._ A fire is upon his hand, lighting his face in a weird way, giving him the appearance of a horror-movie vampire.

"You found me." He says. His voice is so calm that it gets on my nerves. My blade is out, and my hands are shaking a little. 

"I knew I would." I say with full determination.

"Now what?" He doesn't even stand. He's leaning back against the bones, with his black hair falling in his face, covering his left eye. 

"Now you tell me what you're up to."

He laughs at that. Like he's been doing at me since we met. There are torches around the room, and he sets a few of them on fire with his wand. His skin still looks chalky and white. I adjust my stance, spreading my feet below my hips, and squaring my shoulders.

"They died in a plague." 

"Who?" He raises his hand, and cocks an eyebrow when he notices I flinched back. His arm sweeps in a flourish at the room around us. 

"Them. _Les enfants._ " The hair falls over his forehead again. And the ways he speaks French is just, something else.

"Is that why you're here? To track down a plague?"

The way he looks at me makes me feel like I'm 5 and not 16. Like a lost child, who doesn't know shit about the World of Mages, not the way he does. _This_ is his world, he belongs here, it's in his DNA.

"Yes, Snow. I'm here to find a plague, and then put it in a steaming beaker to infect all of Metropolis."

"What are you doing here?" I demand again, swinging my sword in the air.

"Sitting. Don't you see?" He looks bored.

" _No._ None of that. I've finally caught you, after all these months— you're going to tell me what you're up to."

"Most of students died. Magic didn't help them."

"Stop it. Stop distracting me."

"My great-great-uncle was the headmaster. He stayed here to help nurse the sick and dying. His skull is down here, too. Maybe you could help me look for it—I’m told I share his aristocratic brow.”

“I’m not listening.”

"They didn't have a spell for the plague yet. There weren't any words with enough power, with the right power."

I'm tempted to make him stand up, to face me and tell me the truth.

He starts singing something, more to himself. I'm losing my patience over him.

"Baz." He doesn't care. 

I swung my sword into the pile of bones beside him, sending skulls rattling and rolling.

He sneers and sits up, catching the skulls with his wand— _“As you were!”_ They turn in the air and roll back into place.

“Show some respect, Snow,” he says sharply, then slumps and leans back again. “What do you want from me?”

_What do I want from him?_

The truth.

_But there's something else. Something I can't describe._

"I- I want to know what you're up to." My voice is trembling.

" _This_ is what I'm up to." 

"Sitting in a fucking tomb with a bunch of bones? That's it?"

"They're not just bones. They're _students._ And teachers. Everyone who dies at Watford is entombed down here."

"So?" It’s too late when I get what he means. _His mom._

" _So?_ " He repeats, losing the control. "Look, Snow…" He finally gets up. He's taller than me –he's always been. This summer I grew up three inches, and I swear that bastard grew four. "You've been following me, I noticed. Looking for me. And now you've found me. It's not my damn fault if you still haven't found what you're looking for." He's got close to me, so close that I can feel his breathing on my face. 

"I know what you are." I snarl. His grey eyes locked so deep on mine.

"Your roommate?" I shook my head, squeezing the hilt of my sword.

When I do nothing but look at him, he calls me out. "Tell me, Snow." He steps even closer. His hair touches my forehead now. " _What am I?_ "

There's a fire burning inside me. I'm feeling dizzy. _Of magic. Of power. Of him._

"Vampire!" I shout, still looking into his eyes. He clearly feels the force of my breath on his face.

"Really? You think I'm a _vampire_ ?" He giggles, still close to me. "Well, Aleister Crowley, what are you going to do about _that_?"

I look at the grey eyes in front of me a few seconds before my mind goes blank.

And then, _I kiss him_.

His mouth is cold, and tastes like alcohol and smoke. Is good, _so good._

His hands are holding at my chest before they go up to my neck, letting his fingers run through my hair. I let my sword fall, just to grab him by the waist.

I suck on his bottom lip, and then he opens his mouth a little, letting my tongue touch his. This whole kissing thing is strong and rude, almost like one of our fights, _but better._ I'm pushing, and he pushes back.

_I like this better than fighting._

When my tongue touches his teeth - _his fangs,_ he snatches his head away from me.

“I’m sorry.” I'm absolutely out of air. Even in the poor light I can see his lips, now all red from kissing, and a small blush on his cheeks.

“If I’d known it was this easy to get rid of you,” Baz says, while catching his breath again, “I would’ve let you catch up with me weeks ago.”

“Fuck off.” I respond, before he leans into me, kissing my lips again.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is one of my favourite scenes from the first book, and I always wondered how would be reading it as it happens, and not as a memory.  
> anyway I changed the ending, hope you liked it <3


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